


Still Alive

by orphan_account



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Blood, Dubious Morality, Gunplay, I don't know man I've never written anything like this before I don't know what I'm doing anymore, Light D/s undertones, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-07
Updated: 2013-06-07
Packaged: 2017-12-14 05:18:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/833187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“That is why you are here.” He said evenly over Grantaire’s grunts, leaning down closer to his face. “Not because you do not believe, but because you mock. You belittle and disrespect everything that I hold dear to my heart.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still Alive

**Author's Note:**

> This was just an excuse to write gunplay, and I am shameless in admitting that. There is basically no plot and they're both probably kind of OOC but ssshhh focus on the guns. It's also unbeta'd so any mistakes are completely my own.
> 
> For Jay and her incessant cheerleading.

When Grantaire finally began to stir, he did so with a low groan in the back of his throat and a thinly veiled wince. He rolled his head gently from side to side and made to move his arms, only to find his hands bound behind his back. He pushed himself up from his slumped position on the chair and tugged at his arms. He tried to move his chained legs, and they rattled as he shook himself, trying to find give in his bonds.

“Don’t bother.” Enjolras said smoothly. “You’ll only tire yourself out, and I’d rather you didn’t fall asleep again. I’ve been waiting an awfully long time.”

Grantaire’s head flew up at the sound of Enjolras’ voice, and body twisting in the shadowy room in panicked confusion.

“Enjolras?” He called into the dark. “Is that you?”

Grantaire began trying to pull his arms free again, wrestling his back away from the chair and jerking his arms forward.

“Enjolras!”

Enjolras pushed himself away from the wall, readjusting the gun tucked into his waistband as he walked slowly over to Grantaire’s writhing form. The sound of his boots clicking on the floor echoed in the din, and Grantaire stopped moving.

“Please - I don’t - Enj-”

Enjolras cut Grantaire’s babbling short with a gentle hand on his shoulder. Grantaire stilled immediately.

“I can’t see.” Grantaire said in a shaky whisper.

“Blindfolds will do that to you.” Enjolras replied calmly.

Grantaire’s breath hitched and Enjolras saw his fingers flex behind his back.

“What’s happening?” He asked.

“Well that all depends on you.” Enjolras said, squeezing Grantaire’s shoulder before releasing it and moving away. He walked around to stand in front of him. “If you behave yourself, then I might not kill you.”

Enjolras watched as Grantaire swallowed, Adam’s apple moving slowly and heavily.

“And if I don’t behave?”

Enjolras’ lips twitched. How like Grantaire to try and challenge him, even in a situation such as this.

“I may spare you even then. We’ll see how you fare.”

Grantaire seemed to consider this for a moment, breathing heavily through his nose. He clenched his jaw, and his nostrils flared as he let out a great sigh before slumping back in his seat.

“Alright then.” He said, almost casually. Something inside of Enjolras clenched.

“Excuse me?”

“I said okay.” Grantaire replied, raising his voice slightly.

“I heard what you said.” Enjolras snapped. “Why?”

“Well it’s not like I have a choice in the matter,” Grantaire said, “Why act like I do? My life is entirely in your hands, dear Apollo, as it always has been.”

Enjolras felt his hands shake as a small smirk appeared on Grantaire’s face. _Don’t rise to it_.

“Grantaire, do you know why you’re here?” Enjolras asked.

“I think it’s fairly obvious that I don’t.”

“You are here,” Enjolras began, moving closer to Grantaire, “for several reasons. Care to take a guess?”

“I’m going to assume it’s because I don’t believe in your precious cause-”

Enjolras ended his sentence for him with a swift blow to the face.

“That is why you are here.” He said evenly over Grantaire’s grunts, leaning down closer to his face. “Not because you do not believe, but because you _mock_. You belittle and disrespect everything that I hold dear to my heart.”

Grantaire was now silent, head hanging down towards his lap as blood began to drop on his jeans.

“You sneer down at the rest of us with your pessimism and cynicism, so bitter about the wrong the world has thrust upon you that you can’t even see that whilst it may indeed never change, there are at least people _trying_.”

“So what, my attitude is a danger to your cause?” Grantaire asked gruffly, still not moving his head.

“No Grantaire, you are.” Enjolras said, standing up straight. He removed the gun from his waistband. “There was a time when I found myself welcoming your arguments, for they made my stronger. But now? Now...” He trailed away, fingering the cool weapon in his hand.

“Turning up drunk to a sit-down meeting is one thing.” Enjolras continued. “But a protest, with an armed police presence?”

Grantaire seemed to fall even further down in the chair at this.

“I didn’t- Bahorel was fine in the end.” His quiet voice trembled slightly.

“What’s your definition of ‘fine’? Do you say that just because he’s alive, or because he can hide his scars under a shirt?” Enjolras spat. He held the gun tighter in his hand. “If you had been sober, or better yet, not present at all, then he wouldn’t have had to come and find you.”

“I wish he hadn’t.”

Enjolras cocked the hammer on the gun. Grantaire visibly tensed where he was slouched.

“So you say, yet your actions speak far louder.”

He moved closer to Grantaire and bent forward, allowing his hot panting breaths to wash over his face. He moved the gun up to Grantaire’s temple, relishing the small jolt he gave as the mouth of the gun pressed against his skin. He moved the weapon, slowly and deliberately, down Grantaire’s cheek before pushing it under his jaw.

“Allow mine to do the same.”

Grantaire stuck his jaw out in a show of challenging defiance, the corner of his mouth quirking.

“With pleasure.”

Enjolras hummed, moving the weapon round to rest directly under Grantaire’s chin, pushing harder and shoving his head backwards.

“Does this please you?” Enjolras asked in a low voice, pushing the gun forward again.

Grantaire’s trembling exhale was the only reply.

“Answer me!” Enjolras bellowed, fisting his free hand in Grantaire’s hair and wrenching his head back with such force that the chair rocked. Grantaire let out a cracked moan of pain, whimpering as Enjolras twisted his hand tighter against his scalp. “Do you exist merely to torment me, Grantaire?” Enjolras demanded.

“With pleasure.” Grantaire smirked.

Enjolras barely registered what he was doing before he heard the crack of Grantaire’s nose against the barrel of his gun. Grantaire screamed in pain, throwing his head back as Enjolras landed another blow to his stomach. He gasped at the ceiling, grunting and groaning as he tried to catch his breath. He rolled his head forward, spitting blood into his lap as he trembled in the chair.

Enjolras watched him shake where he sat, knuckles white around the gun.

“You know,” Grantaire said hoarsely, “I think this would be far more fun if I wasn’t blindfolded. I know how you like to maintain eye contact when you take people apart.” His bloody smile was wide and obnoxious.

“You think this is fun, Grantaire?” Enjolras asked.

“Don’t you?”

Enjolras’ only response was to push the mouth of the gun against Grantaire’s chest with his now shaking hand.

“I could kill you. With one twitch of my finger, your life would end right here in this room. Do you think that is _fun_?”

“Dying? Not particularly. This, however?” Grantaire spat out a mouthful of blood onto the gun against his skin. “Seeing how far I can push you - testing your limits, _that’s_ fun.”

Enjolras pressed the gun further, his body following suit. His face found itself mere inches in front of Grantaire’s once more.

“You speak as if you have me figured out - as if you believe yourself to have such sway over my emotions.”

“And you speak as if you want me to believe I don’t, yet you’re practically breathing into my mouth whilst I’m in a chair you tied me to.” Grantaire moved his head forward a fraction. “Dear Enjolras, our golden leader, always so composed and rational, cracked open by his alcohol-soaked antithesis.”

Enjolras could feel the heat of Grantaire’s broken nose. He could count the razor cuts on his face, the dusting of freckles on his nose, the blue of his - no.

He ripped the blindfold off of Grantaire’s face, biting his tongue as Grantaire’s pupils dilated and he blinked rapidly.

“I could kill you.” Enjolras repeated, fists clenching around the gun and the blindfold.

“But you won’t.” Grantaire said.

“You don’t know that.” Enjolras replied, voice wavering ever so slightly.

Grantaire tilted his chin up, bringing their faces closer together.

“Oh but Apollo, I really do.”

Something in Enjolras snapped, and he closed the gap between them, shoving his mouth against Grantaire’s. Grantaire let out a cry as their noses collided which was instantly swallowed by Enjolras’ hot mouth. He thrust his tongue forward, licking the blood from Grantaire’s teeth as he scrambled forward. He pulled the gun back from his chest and dropped the blindfold, bringing both of his hands to grip at Grantaire’s hair as he straddled his lap.

Grantaire gasped as Enjolras brought his bottom lip between his teeth, biting and tugging at it before continuing to assault Grantaire’s mouth with his tongue. Grantaire attempted to buck up into Enjolras, but was halted as the gun found itself under his jaw again.

“No.”

Enjolras ignored Grantaire’s groan of protest, instead choosing to move his mouth across his jaw, nipping and licking as he went. He drew his mouth to Grantaire’s ear, sucking the lobe into his mouth.

“I could kill you.” He hissed, snagging the skin between his teeth.

Grantaire kept his mouth shut and body tense, seemingly fighting every instinct his body threw at him to stay still.

“Huh,” Enjolras murmured, rubbing his nose under Grantaire’s earlobe, “If I had known this was all it took to shut you up, I would have done it a long time ago.”

Grantaire shuddered beneath him.

“What about this?” Enjolras rolled his hips slowly and Grantaire let out a choked sound. “Does this please you?”

Grantaire dropped his head against Enjolras’ neck, panting quickly but still not speaking. Enjolras moved against him again and Grantaire keened.

“Speak.” Enjolras commanded, shoving the gun against Grantaire insistently.

“Yes, God _yes_.” Grantaire rasped against Enjolras’ hot skin. “Please, Enjolras I-”

“You are in no position to be making demands.”

“ _Please_.” Grantaire whined. “Don’t make me beg.”

Enjolras pulled Grantaire’s head back so he could look at him. His pupils were blown and his eyelids were low and heavy.

“And here was I thinking you had very little to contribute in the way of good ideas.” Enjolras smirked. He moved the gun away from under Grantaire’s jaw, sliding it up to his temple once more before moving his mouth towards Grantaire’s. “Beg.” He mumbled against his lips.

“ _Please_.” Grantaire begged, screwing his eyes shut.

“Now what are we begging for here, Grantaire?” Enjolras asked. “Your life?”

“You know I don’t care about that.” Grantaire replied breathlessly.

“Well, then you’re going to have to be a little more specific. What is it you desire Grantaire? What do you want?”

“ _You_.” Grantaire bit out, heavy breaths meeting Enjolras’. “Always, _always_ you.”

Enjolras brought their mouths together once more and began to move his hips in earnest against Grantaire’s. He took the gun away from Grantaire’s temple so that he might tangle his fingers in his curls once more, finding himself desperate for some sort of purchase as he thrust forward again and again. He let out a deep moan, growling as it slid over Grantaire’s tongue and shivered through his body, resulting in a cry from the other man. Enjolras shoved himself forward with reckless abandon, as Grantaire practically sobbing into his mouth whilst desperately trying to hold himself still. He felt something tighten in his stomach, his only warning before he let out a cut off shout and shuddered against the bound body beneath him. His hands clenched without thought, and the gun resting on top of Grantaire’s head fired against the wall. Grantaire screamed and then fell against Enjolras’ chest, bloody and spent.

They stayed there, leaning against each other for a moment, both breathing heavily and trembling. Enjolras buried his face in Grantaire’s neck, sucking on the skin covering his pulse point as his breathing returned to normal. He felt Grantaire move as he chuckled beneath him.

“See. Still alive.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Um??? I hope you enjoyed it?? omg *covers face*


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